


Perfect Storm

by jaeger_soul



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Buckle up, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, M/M, Self-Harm, seriously there's just so much angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeger_soul/pseuds/jaeger_soul
Summary: Dash Baxter has kept a secret his whole life - and a fresh start in a new town seems the perfect place to start all over. But when that secret's threatened, can Dash win the fight to keep it quiet or will he finally let someone in?Emotional Rollercoaster of HELL, Dash Baxter x Danny Fenton
Relationships: Dash Baxter/Danny Fenton, OC - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Perfect Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Self-harm, emotionally and physically abusive parent, alcohol abuse

The locker door swings shut behind the last of my teammates - three of them talking and laughing as they go, their voices muffled through the door. I keep my spot on the bench - listening for another 60 seconds.

Silence ticks all around me and when it's been long enough, I rise from the bench. My gut's clenched tightly as I move across the floor - and even though I'm completely alone, I step into one of the shower stalls anyway. Just in case.

I pull my t-shirt from my body and hang it over the stall door, keeping my gaze in front of me. Never on my body. I slip my class ring from the chain around my neck and onto my middle finger, resting it just over my knuckle - the best position for this. I drag in a deep breath, ball my hand into a fist and draw it back. A second ticks by in silence before I drive my fist into the center of my left ribcage.

Some noise between a gasp and a groan is dragged from me at the contact. But that split second pause is too much grace - so I bring my fist down twice more in rapid succession. My other hand flails out at the pain so I grab the shower head in that hand - holding on tightly before I drive my fist into my ribcage again.

 _Two passes_ _… you had to miss_ two _passes_ _…_

Blood's already beaded to the surface of my skin - it's weaker lately. Like it can't take as much as it could before - and it splits so easily. But I can take more now than when I started.

I lose count with the strikes but when the ring slides in the blood - slicing an unintended cut, I take a pause. Drag in a ragged, splintered breath. Then I wipe my ring on my gym shorts and move to my other rib.

I don't keep count this time - hating myself for losing track of the first side. I know I crest over a dozen on my right side before my skin finally splits. My hand is cramping at the position I've got it locked in but I force myself to do another few punches to each side - just enough to drive the pain home - before I stop. I turn the shower water on and rinse myself, a groan falling from me as I wash the blood from my skin.

And somewhere in the distance of the locker room - something clatters against the floor.

I turn from the shower head, grabbing my t-shirt and holding it to my chest. My heartbeat's pounding wildly in my chest as I strain my ears to catch any sound - any hint of where this other person in the locker room is. I hold my breath as I swing the stall door open, stepping out into the locker room. My feet leave wet prints with every step I take but I move further into the locker room - trembling all over.

 _Who saw me? How_ much _did they see?_

That same clattering noise from before sounds and my heart lurches in my chest.

"Who's there?" I call out, goosebumps rising to the surface of my skin. The lights around me have started to dim and there's a chill in the locker room now - it wasn't there before. I can see my own breath hanging in my air in front of me and I call out again, repeating my question.

I'm not left in suspense for long. A figure rounds the corner - emerging between two sets of lockers. Its body glows a sickly green, hovering several inches from the floor. Its bloodshot eyes are focused entirely on me, its head cocked to one side as it watches me. The blood in my veins runs cold when a space where its mouth should be splits open - revealing a set of sharp, pointed teeth.

My feet stumble as I move backward, heart hammering in my chest. It follows my movements, grin stretched wide the whole time. I slip on a puddle of water and almost hit the ground - but I manage to right myself. Stay on my feet.

It advances toward me again, a deep growl emitting from its throat. My back hits a row of lockers and… there's nowhere left for me to run. It knows this - its eyes widening, growl turning to a choked laugh. It moves toward me again - and a flash of light erupts from somewhere in the locker room.

The creature in front of me lets out an unholy shriek and I wince at the piercing sound. Another flash of light happens and I open my eyes to it - to see someone standing in front of me. Someone with white hair, wearing a black jumpsuit. He moves with lightning speed - zipping in and out of the creature's reach. He's faster than it - but he doesn't keep the chase up for long. He pulls something from the waistband of his jumpsuit - some kind of metal thermos.

He pulls the lid off and aims the thermos toward the creature, a bright light emitting from it. And with a sound like a vacuum, it pulls the creature in - sucking it inside the thermos with some kind of invisible force. The guy closes the lid on the thermos firmly before turning to me.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

My heart's pounding in my chest but words tumble from me in the silence. "You're… I thought… you were just a rumor."

He - _Phantom_ \- lets out a soft laugh, shrugging one shoulder as he tucks the thermos away again. "Well… I'm here, in the flesh. Did you get hurt?"

I watch his gaze fall from my face to my chest - and with a start, I realize I've dropped my shirt. Phantom frowns, taking half a step toward me in the silence. "It looks like it got you a couple times, let me see."

He reaches out one gloved hand to touch me - but I pull back. I lean down and grab my t-shirt from the floor, now damp from the puddles I made coming out of the shower. I clutch it to my chest anyway - hiding what he already knows is there.

"I'm fine." I practically spit the words at him but he doesn't react. Not until his gaze shifts again - catching sight of my bloody ring.

His eyes widen and for a split second, he meets my gaze. But I push away from the lockers, moving backward through the locker room.

"L-Leave me alone," I stammer, my every nerve ending on fire under his gaze. He takes a step toward me and I force my voice to come out stronger. "Stop it - get the hell away from me!"

Phantom hesitates for a moment longer before his form shifts and he floats down into the floor, disappearing entirely. I stand rooted to my spot, shaking all over as I watch the space where he disappeared. My rib twinges just a little, reminding me that now - after this - I'm no longer finished in the shower.

* * *

Rain pours down my whole walk home. And even though I only live two blocks from school, I'm soaked when I get home. Mom's car is already parked in the driveway… _great_.

I unlock the front door and step inside, trying to get as little water as possible on the foyer floor. I hear her heels on the tile just seconds later. I take a breath, steeling myself before I turn to face her. Everything in me trembles as she approaches, her jaw set - eyes narrowed.

She moves faster than I do - her hand connecting with the side of my face in a sound that echoes in my head. I stumble back a pace and she grabs the front of my t-shirt, gripping tightly as she pulls me closer to her. Her eyes search mine, her gaze narrowing the longer the silence stretches over the two of us.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper on the question. She clenches her jaw before continuing. "Your first game on this team and you screw it up? Two passes - _really_?"

I drop my stare from hers. "I don't know, I-I must be… rusty?"

She slaps me again, harder this time. "What have I told you about excuses, Dash?"

"I-I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise," I say, the words tumbling out of me in a rush.

She tugs on the front of my shirt until I meet her stare. Her eyes are narrowed, red lips pressed into a thin line. "Your promises are just as worthless as you - you _always_ break them."

I drop my stare to the tile, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

"Do you know what scouts are going to see when they come to these games?" Mom asks, not waiting for my response before she continues. "They're going to see a lazy quarterback and they're not going to want you - _nobody_ _'_ s going to want you."

I swallow hard. "I know."

Mom doesn't say anything for several, long minutes. And when she lets go of my shirt, I don't step past her. I wait until she's taken a step backward - silently letting me know I can move now. I don't look up as I move further into the house, rain water dripping from me steadily now.

"Get yourself into something dry and get back down here to clean up your mess," Mom says, her voice drifting away from me.

I chance a look up - she's headed into the living room. I climb the staircase and step into my room, stripping off my wet clothes and piling them into the corner of my room. And though it wasn't that long ago, the sight of bloody bruises on my side startles me. Like I could ever forget.

I dress quickly, pulling a hoodie on over one of my favorite faded t-shirts. When I leave my room, I pull the door shut behind me. Mom's waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs when I start down them. I stop just a few stairs from the bottom - just out of her reach.

Her eyes narrow, like she knows why I'm keeping distance between us. "Get a towel and clean up your mess."

"Yes, Mom." I descend the rest of the staircase and avoid meeting her gaze as I step down onto the floor. I move across the hall to the downstairs bathroom and get a hand towel from beneath the sink.

Mom watches as I go along the floor, drying up every drop of water I tracked in. I hesitate in place when I'm finished - knowing that she's double checking every inch of the floor. After several minutes in silence, she makes a soft noise in the back of her throat.

"I suppose that'll have to do."

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief, turning away from her. I move down the hall to the laundry room and open the door, stepping out to put the towel in the towel's basket. Mom's still standing in the living room when I step out of the laundry room. Her gaze is trained on me as I shut the door and I hold my breath, waiting for her next strike.

Her mouth's pressed into a thin line and though her lips part to speak, she doesn't get the chance to. Both of our attentions are pulled away from each other when the lock on the front door turns. _Chris is home_.

Mom makes a soft noise and uncrosses her arms, her heels clicking across the floor as she steps into the foyer. I hang back, watching as Chris comes in through the doorway. He's not soaked like I was, a dripping umbrella clutched in his hand.

"Hi, baby," Mom greets my brother, all smiles for him. Always.

Chris returns the smile before his gaze shifts to me. And his smile brightens. "Heya, kid - I caught the game. You were incredible out there!"

I try to return the smile but it feels forced. I drop my stare to the floor, my voice quiet when I speak. "Thanks… I-I didn't know you were in the crowd."

"Nah, I wasn't - caught it on the website. Apparently your new school is better with technology than your last school was," he says, a hint of amusement to his voice.

He's shed his coat when I look up - hanging it on one of the hooks by the front door and dropping his umbrella down into the stand. He gives me a wink when he catches my stare, shifting his gaze between me and Mom. "Did you guys eat already?"

"Yes," Mom answers for us - even though the last thing I had was half a fruit cup at lunch. I can barely eat on game days.

Chris nods to Mom, his gaze shifting to me now. "Did you?"

"Yeah," I say, my voice soft and croaky to my own ears.

He frowns just a little but I drop my gaze before he can try to search my eyes. I always give everything away with my eyes.

"Alright, well… I'm gonna make myself something - come sit with me while I eat," he says, not leaving me room to disagree.

Mom and I follow him into the kitchen and sit at the dining table - in chairs furthest from each other. Chris moves throughout the kitchen quietly, making himself some type of breakfast scramble. My stomach growls as the scent of bacon drifts through the air.

"Oh, Mom - I meant to tell you. Jodie gave me her phone number to give you." Chris steps away from the stove long enough to hold out a folded piece of paper toward Mom.

She takes it with a smile, unfolding the paper over to read the number. "Great, I'll give her a call in just a bit."

"Actually, she told me to tell you to call before seven - can't interrupt bedtime ritual for little Sammy." Chris turns back to the stove, whistling quietly as he cooks. He looks to Mom in the silence. "Seriously, Mom - you should call her."

Mom looks from the paper to Chris before making a soft tsking noise. "Alright, I will. I'll see you later, then." She smiles at Chris before getting up from the table. She doesn't even glance in my direction.

Just a few seconds after she's left the room, Chris cuts off the stove burners. I return my gaze to the table, taking out my phone just to have something to hold. Chris comes to the table, setting down two plates on it. My heart jumps and I look up at him.

He shakes his head before I can speak. "Eat, Dash. I know you don't before games."

I drop my stare down to the eggs and bacon on my plate. My stomach growls loudly in the silence, giving me away. Without a word, Chris sets a fork next to my plate before he settles across the table from me.

For a few seconds, I just stare down at the plate. But I can feel his gaze on me - waiting for me to start eating - so I pick up one of the pieces of bacon and take a bite. Chris waits a few seconds longer before he starts eating from his own plate. And I can't deny how hungry I really am when I start in on the eggs.

"You played well tonight, Dash," Chris says, a smile on his face when I glance up at him. "Despite what Mom probably said to you… you were great out there."

I drop my stare from his. "Thanks."

"Hey, I mean it." Chris reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of mine. "Don't listen to her, okay? Don't let her get inside your head."

I nod, keeping my gaze downcast. We both know that it's easier said than done - Mom has a way of getting to me like no one else. And despite the coach and Chris both telling me I played well, it's Mom's words resounding in my head. Telling me that I'll never be good enough - _nobody_ _'s ever going to want me._

* * *

My sleep is broken that night - I toss and turn, my body aching despite the comfort of my mattress. I wake sometime past 3, my mouth and throat dry - so I leave the warmth of my bed and step out into the hall. I cross the hallway to the bathroom and turn the tap on. I drink several mouthfuls of cold water from my cupped hands before leaving the bathroom again.

I've just stepped out into the hall when a noise sounds from one of the other closed bedrooms. My heart jumps in my chest and I strain my ears to hear which room it came from. There's a few silent seconds before the noise happens again - it's a quiet noise. One I've memorized for years - a soft sort of crying.

For a second, I almost return to my room. Almost bury my head beneath my pillow and pretend I never heard it. But I can never leave her alone when she's like this.

I knock softly on Mom's door before turning the knob anyway. "Mom?" I call into the darkness of her room.

She's sitting up on one end of the bed, her back to me. Her silhouette stands out in stark contrast against the moonlight bathing her room. I let the door close behind me and move across the room to her. The picture frame is clutched to her chest, her shoulders shaking from the force of her sobs. And my own throat is tight just watching her.

"Mom?" I call louder this time and she hears me.

She swivels on the bed to face me, her eyes wide - mouth open in surprise. "I-I didn't think… an-anyone was still awake."

She turns away from me again, crushing the picture frame to her chest, soft sobs rocking through her. I sink down on the bed next to her, scanning the room for what I know is there. It doesn't take me longer than a few seconds to see it - that clear bottle, half-full of bronze liquid is sitting on her nightstand. Sticky Scotch glass next to it.

"Mom," I say, my voice coming out a groan on her name.

She just shakes her head, another sob leaving her. When she speaks, her voice is just as broken. "H-Henry… oh, m-my Henry!"

I blink back the tears in my own eyes, my voice broken when I speak. "I know, Mom… I know. I miss him, too."

Mom sniffles loudly, another sob racing through her before she turns to me, blinking against the tears still freely flowing. "Baby, I-I'm so sorry - about earlier. I don't know wh-why I hit you - Dash, baby, I'm s-so sorry!"

She's wailing now, holding on to me. To the photo of him. And I can't let her go - I hold her and she sobs openly, every broken cry hurting worse than what happened when I came home. This is worse. This will always be worse.

She spills one broken apology after another, swearing she'll never do it again. Telling me that she loves me. And I blink back tears and tell her it's okay, even though I know she'll never remember any of this in the morning. And everything will be exactly the way it's always been.

* * *

Mom stays off the bottle for the rest of the weekend - but it doesn't stop her from picking at me. And by the time I get to school on Monday, I've added a few more marks along my ribcage and across my stomach. The temporary pain keeps her voice out of my head for just a little while - it's enough to get me through.

I move through school with my headphones on, playing music from my phone to avoid talking to anyone. I haven't been here long enough to make friends with anyone - I only see my teammates at practice, despite their invites to do things outside of school. And I'm still the new guy to most people anyway.

My morning classes pass in somewhat of a haze. I take notes in each of them but my mind's elsewhere. Mainly I'm just looking forward to lunch after study hall. At least my nerves aren't a problem today - I'll be able to hold down more than half a fruit cup.

I'm taking a few books out of my backpack when someone comes to a stop next to my table. I keep my gaze on my textbooks but the shadow on my page doesn't go away. So I look up, meeting the blue eyed stare of some guy I don't recognize. His hair is dark - almost piercing against his pale skin - and when he speaks, he reveals a set of crooked teeth.

"Can I sit with you?" he asks, his voice higher than I was expecting.

For a second, I forget that he's talking to me - I'm lost watching the way he moves, startled by the cute dimple on the left side of his face. He's so familiar - like I've seen him a thousand times before today. I come to my senses when he clears his throat softly but the words that come out of me sound far too abrasive in the silence.

"Why are you asking me?"

He shrugs, nodding to my table again. "Because I need somewhere to sit."

I do recognize him - he's usually the first one in the class. Always sits by the-

"Don't you usually sit by the window?" I ask, working to keep my voice softer now.

He shrugs again. "I don't want to sit there today. Can I sit with you?"

I look to his usual seat, trying to understand why he's suddenly moving. But our teacher comes into the classroom before I can ask anything.

"Alright, class - settle down, now." His gaze zeroes in on us. "Mr. Fenton, please take your seat."

"You got it, Mr. Gray," He - Fenton - says, giving the teacher a wink as he slides into the chair next to mine. His elbow brushes mine with the movement and butterflies race through my veins at the contact.

I keep my stare on my textbooks and Mr. Gray tells us to settle into our studying before he sits at his own desk, silently going over paperwork. A hush falls over the classroom and though I'm reading my textbook, it doesn't make any sense. I must read the same sentence over and over again but it doesn't register. Not the way that my mind has already committed that brief touch to memory.

I start when a folded piece of paper lands on my textbook. I glance out of the corner of my eye but the guy next to me has his gaze on his notebook, chewing the eraser on his pencil. I quietly unfold the paper, my heartbeat in my ears.

_Hey, I_ _'m Danny. I realized I never officially welcomed you to Casper High when you moved here. So… welcome to Casper High._

He's taken the time to draw a few balloons, confetti raining down from the top of the paper and cascading down a small banner he's drawn. It's a simple drawing - and it's not much more than my name. But _Welcome to Casper High, Dash!_ staring back at me sends those butterflies into orbit.

Danny gives me a grin when I glance his way and I can't help but smile back. And for a moment, it feels like maybe, this time… things won't be so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo! Thanks for checking out this story - I hope it's just as angsty as you were hoping for when you clicked on it. And if you're following this story over from Stay then just know that I'm still working on that. I just need a palette cleanser to go to every now and again so... enjoy
> 
> The title of this fic comes from War by Icon For Hire. Which is angsty af and you should definitely listen to it if you haven't heard it already. Also the title of this chapter comes from Hurt by Get Scared - another fantastically angsty song
> 
> Anyway, thanks for checking this out - I hope you enjoyed it. I can't wait to share the rest of the chapters with you as it develops
> 
> PS: If you're Elektra reading this, I hope this lives up to your wildest angsty imagination


End file.
